Why Blaise Quit Drinking
by HowDracoGotHisGrooveBack
Summary: Draco Malfoy has the alcohol tolerance of a twelve year old Hufflepuff girl. Harry Potter is bored beyond belief. How could things possibly go wrong?


**HPDMHPDM**

You let him OUT?"

Blaise Zabini winced slightly as his incensed girlfriend shrieked at him, at an absolutely earth shattering volume. The Italian could have sworn he felt the ground shaking. Of course, that could also be the three bottles of Fire Whisky he had somehow managed to ingest in two hours…Slytherin parties tended to be wild.

"I didn't _let_ him out," he clarified as the buzzing in his ears stopped "He's just…not here."

Pansy simply stared, for once at a complete loss of words. "I just…let me…okay," she decided finally, trying not to hex him. After all, she still needed answers. "You mean to tell me that Draco_ – our_ Draco- the one with the alcohol tolerance of a second year Hufflepuff girl is wandering the castle _alone_? At this time of night? Without a _wand_? Because you were too sloshed to check up on him?"

"Well of course it sounds bad when you say it like _that…_"

And that was when she hexed him.

**HPDMHPDM**

Draco Malfoy was sulking. Somewhere between the statue of the Humpbacked Witch and that painting of Sir Yells-a-lot, he had lost his last bottle of… whatever it was that Nott had given him. Nott had given him a lot of bottles. Nott was a nice bloke. So was Blaise. And Zacharias Smith. He loved them all so much.

He also loved sugar quills. At the moment he was sitting under the statue, very sugar quill-less. This simply wouldn't do. He got up shakily, fully intending to go down to the kitchens, where he _knew_ they were hiding his sugar quills. He hadn't quite decided who 'they' were, but when he did they would be very, very sorry they took his…well, whatever it was they took.

He stumbled about, almost falling a couple of times. A painting of an old wizard- Brutus the…something- glared at him. "Disgraceful! No sense of decorum!" he snapped at Draco.

The blonde stuck his tongue out, not particularly liking being yelled at. They were nice words though. He would probably use them sometime.

He stumbled down another, much _nicer_ hallway, before something shiny caught his attention. Draco liked shiny things. He also liked soft things. Soft things were _very_ important. Perhaps if he looked hard enough, he could find something soft _and_ shiny…that would be better than total world domination. Or chocolate. Yes, he would do it. The soft and shiny had to be found! Maybe it was behind this chair. _Crash! _Or this one. _Crash! _Or that one…

**HPDMHPDM**

A very bored and sober Harry Potter was trudging down the hallways tonight. He was heavily weighing the pros and cons of having a prefect as his best friend. Of course, when the cons included said best friend palming off his nightly rounds to Harry so he could make out with Hermione, the odds weren't exactly balancing out.

This was stupid, Harry fumed silently. Even the _paintings_ were asleep. What did they expect would happen at this time of…

_Crash__. _Harry jumped out of his skin, wand drawn and eyes narrowed. _Crash. _The brunette winced. Whoever it was, they weren't really bothering to keep it quiet. Harry cautiously sidled down to the source of all this crashing, and his eyes widened as he caught sight of a familiar blonde head.

"Malfoy?" he snapped, suspicion rearing its head "What the hell are you doing down here? And…" he ducked as a foot stool was carelessly chucked in his general direction "What are you looking for?"

"Soft 'n shiny," came the muttered reply.

Harry stared. Ok, he hadn't exactly been expecting a nefarious plot- Malfoy didn't have enough imagination for that. However, 'soft and shiny' hadn't been on his list of "Top Ten Things Malfoy would be looking for in an abandoned classroom". Said Malfoy turned to look at him.

"Pothead!" he beamed, as if he'd spotted a long lost brother.

That threw Harry off. Malfoy was _never_ happy to see him. Malfoy was never happy, period. _Focus, Harry_. He addressed the blonde in his most authoritative voice.

"Why are you throwing furniture around at two in the night?" he asked, not really sure he wanted the answer.

He didn't get one either.

"You're tall. Both of you," the blonde informed him. He looked Harry up and down as if sizing him up. "Pretty, too." He added thoughtfully. Then he swayed slightly.

"Are you drunk?" _As if he needed to ask_

The blonde grinned happily. "Nope," he lied. "I'm _wasted_. Are you?"

"No," Harry said blandly.

"Why not?" the blonde demanded, clearly affronted.

"I don't… know?"

"Disgraceful! No sense of decorum!" Draco bellowed happily, sensing an opportunity to use those words he liked so much.

The Gryffindor swallowed and took a step back. This was _not_ normal.

"Um Malfoy, are you…all right?"

The blonde had cocked his head, looking like a giant cat. Then his eyes widened comically as he caught sight of Harry's hair. It was the raven's misfortune that Hermione had persuaded him to try Sleakeazy's hair potion that same day. Apparently it had worked well enough for Draco to have noticed, because the Slytherin gave a triumphant whoop and lunged in Harry's direction. Harry let out a shrill cry (which he would later deny) and scrambled to get away, but he found himself on the floor, with a lap full of happy blonde, being petted like a hamster.

"Soft and shiny," Draco informed him smugly, continuing the petting.

"Sure, of course," Harry agreed, between gasps. Malfoy was light, but he moved like a freight train. "Seen a rib lying about anywhere?"

Draco looked around, determined to help the Boy Who Lived to Have Shiny Hair. Unfortunately, he leaned too far and almost tipped off Harry's lap. It struck him that he shouldn't be in Harry's lap in the first place, but the Gryffindor was warm and comfortable. So he grabbed his shoulders to steady himself and scrambled back on.

Harry mentally swore as Draco's fidgeting on his lap started having a rather… undesired effect. Merlin this was mortifying. And the source of all his trouble was practically oblivious. It was amazing how Malfoy could ruin his day without even trying.

"How much did you have to drink?" the brunette demanded, when he was reasonably sure that this was actually happening and not some kind of surreal nightmare.

Draco frowned, thinking. "Depends," he answered finally

"Depends on what?"

"Are you asking, bottles or shots?"

Harry groaned. The blonde nodded sympathetically and pet him some more. Harry shook his head to get the hand off, eliciting a glare from Draco.

"Right then, lets get you back to your dorm. Assuming you can still stand."

"No," Draco vetoed the idea instantly.

"And why not?"

"You're warm."

"I'm also losing circulation. So if you wouldn't mind getting the fuck _off_…"

"No!"

The grip around his neck tightened. Harry glared at the mulish brat. Draco's gaze narrowed in response. Five minutes later, Harry's eyes were watering and the blonde was still holding his ground. _And_ his neck. _Merlin_, he was a stubborn drunk!

"Fine!" the Gryffindor snapped finally "We'll just stay here until we die, then."

"Works fer me," the Slytherin slurred, settling into the crook of Harry's neck with a satisfied sigh. Harry let out a frustrated noise which Draco deigned to imitate. Four times. After that things were quiet.

For a while

**HPDMHPDM**

"Potter?"

"What?" snapped Harry

"I miss Maximus"

"Who?"

"Maximus, you loutish…_lout_," he snapped, laying his head on Harry's shoulder. This was unbelievable. "My _dog_"

Harry snorted. The idea of Malfoy having normal, _human_ feelings was ludicrous to say the least. Then again, the blonde _was_ full of surprises tonight. "I'm sure you have a picture of him, Malfoy. In your _room. _Where I could take you, right about _now_ if you…"

"He died last week"

Oh. Harry gulped. This was not something he had signed up for. But the blonde's voice was becoming suspiciously watery. _Oh no._ Harry couldn't just ignore him. He wasn't made of stone! For Merlin's sake, the bloke's _dog_ died. "Um, there there," he tried, patting the blonde head awkwardly.

That did it. Draco practically wailed, burying his face in Harry's shoulder. The brunette floundered around, desperately trying for another tack. He had to stop the crying. _Anything_ to stop the crying!

"Oh come on, Mal- Draco. Don't cry. Look, I-I'm sorry about Maximus."

"N-no you're not," Draco continued to sniffle. Harry felt his throat clench. He was literally the world's worst person. The sniffs turned to sobs as Draco began bawling into his shoulder again. _Oh dear god._ "I _am_ sorry. Really, I swear," he insisted, involuntarily tightening his grip around the trembling blonde. He hadn't realised how slender the other boy was. And he had such pretty hair too. _Soft and shiny_, Harry smiled. And he seemed so cute and…_vulnerable_ right now. He hugged him again, murmuring words of comfort. Finally, Draco seemed to calm down a bit.

"Feel better?" Harry asked, rubbing his back soothingly.

Draco nodded, rubbing his eyes and blinking. He looked adorable. "I'm cold," he informed Harry, clearly expecting him to do something about it. Harry would have obliged with a warming charm but Draco seemed to have other ideas.

Before the brunette could register what was happening, Draco's lips were on his. He tasted of whisky and peach scnapps- _peach schnapps, really?-_ and Harry couldn't care less. He braced himself against a wall as the Slytherin arched himself and slid his tongue into Harry's eager mouth. The brunette moaned in response before his noble Gryffindor side kicked in. Stifling a moan at Draco's spectacular tongue-work (how the blonde could do that while drunk was beyond him) he pushed him off gently.

"No, Draco," he muttered, trying to summon up whatever shreds of willpower he had left. It was _not_ easy.

"Why not?" Draco pouted, looking quite put out.

"I'm sorry. You have _no idea _how sorry, but…you're hammered."

Draco grinned. "Wasted"

Harry smiled fondly and grazed that flushed cheek with his fingers. "Right. So, I can't really kiss you, you know. That'd be taking advantage"

Draco frowned. This was a problem he hadn't anticipated, but Potter's logic was sound. "So if I'm _not_ wasted, we can snog?" he clarified.

Harry had to laugh at that. "Absolutely,"

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "All the time?"

"As many times as you want" Harry assured him. "When you're sober"

Draco reacted with the enthusiasm of a four year old being offered the keys to a candy store. "Let's go make a sobering potion! Snape's office is this way…"

"_Or_," Harry broke in, slightly alarmed "We could just…wait here. For a while"

"We could do that," Draco conceded, settling down again.

Harry smiled and tightened his hold on the blonde menace. This night was starting to look up

**HPDMHPDM**

This night _sucked. _Blaise scowled as he skulked down yet another corridor looking for a certain species of ferret. Pansy had kicked him out and instructed him not to come back without Draco. He loved her but sometimes she could be a real bit…

He stopped. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. And then he slowly backed away. Right in front of him, not five feet from where he was standing, Draco Malfoy and Potter…_Potter_ were asleep under a statue, cuddling. Draco's head was tucked in the crook of Potter's neck and the brunette's arms were slung around his slim waist possessively. As Blaise debated whether or not to pass out, Potter cracked an eye open. "Soft and shiny," he mumbled, before falling asleep again.

Right. Of course. That was all the encouragement Blaise needed to beat a hasty retreat.

"So, did you find him?" Pansy demanded as he re-entered the Slytherin lounge, shaken to his core.

The Slytherin gaped at her, eyes still glazed over. "Let's never drink again. Ever."

**END**

Reviews please!


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